


We're Going to Need to Get Soda

by isuilde



Series: Scatter Like Flower Petals [4]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Domesticity, M/M, Major Character Injury, also misaki bakes cookies, fretting Misaki, hurt!Saruhiko, it doesn't have anything to do with saruhiko, it's totally for anna and kamamoto because they helped out okay, long-suffering Seri and Izumo just because, right - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isuilde/pseuds/isuilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, Misaki thinks he’d like to say more. Come home soon, maybe. Or simply be careful, dumbass, because Saruhiko gets reckless whenever he’s excited, even if the only one who can rile up Saruhiko to that extent is Misaki. </p>
<p>Or maybe, I love you, you know that, right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Going to Need to Get Soda

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sarumi Fest to celebrate Sarumi Day on tumblr.

It’s normal. It’s how his evenings go sometimes. 

“I’ll be home late. There’s a Strain at loose at the border of the city.” 

“Huh. Okay. Also, we’re out of soda.” 

“Right, I’ll drop by the convenience store and buy some. See you.” 

“Don’t die, idiot monkey.” 

In retrospect, Misaki thinks he’d like to say more.  _Come home soon_ , maybe. Or simply  _be careful, dumbass,_  because Saruhiko gets reckless whenever he’s excited, even if the only one who can rile up Saruhiko to that extent is Misaki. 

Or maybe,  _I love you, you know that, right_. 

**——-o0o——-**  

He wakes up at two, and the other side of the bed is empty and cold. 

“Saru..?” he murmurs, shifting slowly and pushes himself up, absently trying to remember what he’s just dreamt about. He can’t remember much, except for the overwhelming loneliness, and that doesn’t necessarily meant he’s just had a fucking nightmare, no. Where the fuck is that idiot monkey, anyway? 

In the darkness, he gropes around for his phone-watch and slides a finger across the surface. The holographic interface blinks into life, illuminating the room—no messages or calls. For a moment, Misaki wonders if Saruhiko’s home and is already crashing on the couch in the living room (he’s caught the Monkey doing that sometimes, when things get really hectic), but it’s odd that Saruhiko doesn’t at least wake Misaki up to get his good-night kiss. Saruhiko is much more of a sap than Misaki, really. 

He rises to his feet, dragging the blanket with him as he walks out to the living room of their small apartment, eyes drooping in half-wakefulness. The lights flickers on at the flick of his finger on the switch, and Misaki stares at the empty couch. 

So Saruhiko isn’t home yet. That’s—that’s fucking unusual, yeah. 

“Ah—Kusanagi-san?” he’s glad that the older man is still up—and a little bit guilty, perhaps, because he knows Kusanagi-san doesn’t sleep much ever since Totsuka-san and Mikoto-san’s gone, but at times like this, at least he doesn’t have to worry about waking the bar owner up in an ungodly hour. “Yeah, sorry for calling so late. That shitty Monkey isn’t home, yet—no, nothing. No calls or emails, yeah.” He pauses, blinking away the last of sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, please. Thanks, Kusanagi-san.”

It’s a little more than half an hour later that Kusanagi tells him to get ready—he’s going to pick Misaki up and they’ll go to the hospital together—and Misaki’s whole being freezes, because the word hospital sounds so foreign in his ears, and the only thing he can remember is  _huh, okay, also we’re out of soda,_   _don’t die, idiot Monkey_. 

When Kusanagi knocks on his door, the first thing Misaki tells him is “I’m going to need to get soda.” 

**——-o0o——-**  

The Blues, Misaki decides angrily, are a bunch of fuckers. Even after years, he can’t see why the fuck Saruhiko chose to remain with them, even after the Dresden Slate was disassembled and everything settled down. 

“The information is classified,” Akiyama Himori says as he stares down at Misaki, unflinching. “You are neither a member of SCEPTER 4, nor Fushimi-san’s family member, so this information is not—“ 

“I’m going to burn this hospital down,” Misaki grits out, savoring the deep frown the other man’s face has contorted into. “I’m going to set every single one of you on fire and there won’t even be any ashes left, I swear—” 

“We have the authority to arrest you for threatening a member of government organiza—“ 

“Fuck you and your stupid government!” 

“Please refrain from shouting, this is a hospital.” 

“Get your ass moving and take me to that shitty Monkey, then, or at least tell me what the fuck happened!” Misaki’s hand shoots up, grabbing Akiyama’s collar and brings him down a good two centimeter so he can glower at the SCEPTER 4 member properly. Akiyama jerks back, glaring, but Misaki’s grip doesn’t yield, and he grits out angrily, “I have the right to know.” 

Akiyama scoffs. “ You HOMRA members are just violent brats.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Misaki hisses, eyes narrowing because even if HOMRA is no more, he will not stand for this. “I’m not here to make a goddamn havoc. Get me that shitty Monkey, and I’ll be fucking out of your hair.” 

“Fushimi-san belongs to SCEPTER 4 now,” Akiyama grits out. “You have no rights to demand—“ 

“He belongs to  _me_.” Misaki cuts him off, eyes narrowing in warning. “He’s fucking mine, you fucker.” 

“How rude, to threaten someone in a hospital hallway,” a new voice breaks in, this one more familiar and stern, like an elegant staccato that echoes the tapping sounds of high heels on the floor. Both Akiyama and Misaki turn to the voice, and Misaki’s eyes widen at the sight of Kusanagi standing next to none other than Awashima Seri. 

So that’s where the older man has gone to. 

“Yatagarasu. I would appreciate it if you release my subordinate.” Awashima Seri pauses, her gaze assessing Misaki from the top of his head to his toe. “This is a hospital, after all, and we have suffered enough losses against that Strain for today.” 

Misaki makes a growling sound at the back of his head. “I’ve got no reason to do what the Blues want.” 

“Yata,” Kusanagi says, sounding tired. “Let him go.” 

“But—Kusanagi-san—“ 

“Fushimi is still in the operation room, so we can’t see him right away, but Seri-chan will contact us when he’s out of the woods.” Kusanagi closes the distance between them, reaching out to gently pry Misaki’s fingers off Akiyama’s collar. Akiyama stumbles back with a grudging look, but Misaki doesn’t even have the capacity to focus back on him, because Saruhiko is— 

Saruhiko is. 

“He’s alive?” it comes out a little bit too close to a sob, but his eyes are dry even if his heart is pounding in fear. “He’s—he’s going to make it, right, Kusanagi-san?” 

Kusanagi looks into his eyes; sad and resigned, and Misaki really hates how much the King and Totsuka’s death has changed Kusanagi. He knows that Kusanagi can’t answer that, that Kusanagi doesn’t dare to even try and reassure Misaki that Saruhiko is going to be fine, because Kusanagi knows better than anyone what it’s like to have everything backfires at you. Kusanagi knows better than anyone what it’s like to suddenly lose the most important thing in his life. 

But Saruhiko is more than that, to Misaki. There’d be no happiness without Saruhiko—not anymore. Misaki doesn’t think anything would be enough to fill the gap Saruhiko would leave, if he were to depart from this world. And the only thing he can think of is  _huh, okay, also we’re out of soda, don’t die, you idiot Monkey_. 

He should have said more. 

Awashima Seri gives a nod at Akiyama Himori, and the latter clears out of Misaki’s sight pretty quick. With a soft sigh, the woman gestures at the empty waiting bench—the first welcoming gesture Misaki’s gotten since he’s entered the hospital. 

“I suppose apology is in order,” she begins, once Kusanagi has dragged Misaki to sit down. “You do have the right to know what happened. Fushimi has listed you as his emergency contact several weeks prior; it is entirely our fault that his database hasn’t been updated since he made the proper paperwork. It has been quite hectic, lately.” 

Misaki stares blankly at her. She nods. 

“The Strain was out of control, we needed to restrain it fast. Fushimi is a brilliant strategist, but that doesn’t mean nothing could go wrong.” She looks down, the first shadow of exhaustion slipping past her impeccable elegance. Misaki wonders if it’s guilt he can see in her eyes. “It happens, sometimes. Some of us forget that we no longer holds the power we were once bestowed with by the Captain. I suppose Fushimi miscalculated about things and forgot about that, too.” 

Kusanagi makes a sound like he’s expected something like this would happen ages ago, but Misaki is just too tired to respond with anger. “He’s going to be okay? Goddammit, I just need to—“ 

“He’s fighting.” Awashima pauses, her head tilting at the direction she’s come from, like she’s considering if it’s better to be honest or not. “It didn’t look good; shattered ribs and punctured lungs, and heavy concussion, I would say, but Fushimi is stubborn. He will get through it.” 

Misaki buries his face in his palms, shoulders shaking as the weight of the situation settles. It isn’t good. It’s actually really, really bad, but he’s got no choice but to believe that Saruhiko would pull through, perhaps traumatized and scarred, but most importantly, alive. 

Alive. That’s the only thing he needs—he can’t have another one of the people he love to leave. It scares him, the possibility of being alone. 

Awashima Seri turns around to leave, but before she stars walking, she glances his way with a small smile. 

“He was conscious when we brought him here,” she says. “Confused, but conscious. And he keeps telling us that he needs to get soda.” 

She leaves; her steps a staccato notes that echoes in the silence of hospital hallways, and Misaki starts laughing and sobbing at the same time. 

**——-o0o——-**  

It takes half a day and a Munakata Reishi for Misaki to be able to enter Saruhiko’s room. Misaki decides that he fucking hates bureaucracy. It takes another half a day before Saruhiko opens his eyes, staring at Misaki in confusion before going back to sleep without so much as a word. 

But he’s awake and he’s stable, and Misaki is too relieved to even think of getting angry at the various members of the Blues coming in and out of the room. 

At one point in the next night, Misaki startles himself awake at the sound of the door closing. He blinks, because he doesn’t remember falling asleep on the chair next to Saruhiko’s bed, and there’s a blue uniform coat draped over his shoulders. He wonders which fucker of the Blues dares to put the uniform he’s hated so much for a long time on him, before shrugging the coat off and flings it to another chair. 

A childish move, but he’s so irritated with everything and too relieved at the same time that he doesn’t know how to react. 

He stays in the hospital for two days. Awashima Seri comes up and forces him to go eat at times, going so far as threatening to call Kusanagi in if he doesn’t move, and Misaki really doesn’t want to bother Kusanagi-san, which is why he obliges. Anna drops by with a bag full of his clothes on the first evening he stays on the hospital, peering at Misaki through a red marble before telling him to take care of himself and that Saruhiko will be just fine. 

Misaki wishes Anna had been there the night Saruhiko was injured. 

It’s ten at night when Saruhiko wakes up again, this time lucid enough to remember what had happened. Doctors and nurses rush in and shove Misaki aside, but Saruhiko’s eyes follow him to the corner of the room, and that’s enough, Misaki thinks. That’s enough. 

He doesn’t cry, when Saruhiko calls him for the first time in days. He hits Saruhiko’s knee instead, watches the younger man wince, and kisses it better. 

**——-o0o——-**  

He goes home. Anna is there, tidying up the small apartment with the help of Kamamoto. Misaki bakes them cookies, just because he’s itching to do something, and that’s when Saruhiko calls. 

“I’ll be home late. The hospital paperwork is taking longer than I expected.” 

“Huh. Okay. And we’re still out of soda.” 

“I told you I’ll drop by the convenience store and buy some. See you.” 

“Yeah,” Misaki says, closes his eyes and thinks of the words he never said. It’s quiet on the other side of the line, and Misaki thinks, screw it. Just this once. “I fucking love you, you know that, right.” 

It isn’t a question. 

“See you soon, Mi-sa-kiiii….” Saruhiko drawls, the bastard, and hangs up. 

Misaki scowls at his watch-phone, telling himself that yeah, just this once, and turns back to the cookies. 

Saruhiko brings home two huge bottles of soda. They last for a good month. 

**——-o0ofinitoo0o——-**


End file.
